


Marg

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: Fireside Tales [132]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, GFY, Gen, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Neither of your brothers has the sense of a squirrel. I'd return to find the forest burned down around the palace if I left them to watch over it while I am away."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marg

**Author's Note:**

> Cýron, late summer 3018 TA  
> Prompt: Alone  
> Alternate Universe: Agnu Ra Nutû

"Why is the Keeper of the Stores asking me what _I_ want for the Festival of Light?" Cýron watches her father as he lays out weaponry and the armor he has not worn in nearly sixty years. She knows the answer to the question voiced, but she wants the answer to the one beneath it. Why is she being left in charge of a kingdom she has never wanted?

"Neither of your brothers has the sense of a squirrel." Thranduil sets another knife among the collection that he will wear both under and over his armor. Most won't recognize them for such, but her father and youngest brother alike have always been fond of such weapons. "I'd return to find the forest burned down around the palace if I left them to watch over it while I am away."

"When will you return?" And will he return, Cýron wants to know. Her father hasn't left Mirkwood since her grandfather had taken an army to join others in confronting Sauron, and she has heard nothing of him taking an army with him. If he rides into danger, there is no knowing if he will survive. If he goes West, there will be no seeing him until she can raise a child of her own to take the weight of crown and kingdom off her shoulders.

"I do not know." Thranduil pauses, turning to meet her gaze. "I do not intend to sail West, ruscnín. I am not done with this world." A wry smile crosses his face that draws an answering one from her.

"Good." Cýron relaxes a little, though she still doesn't like the idea of being left in charge, no matter how well she may or may not do. This is not her calling, and not her desire. "I will keep the Greenwood for you, then, and if you do not return in a century, I shall sent Dînthor to find you."

Thranduil snorts, and after a moment, beckons her to him, holding her close for a long moment when she comes. "I shall endeavor not to need such an incentive to return."

Cýron rests her head on her father's shoulder for a long moment. "If you decide you wish to sail West after all, send me word. I am sure I might find someone who can at least keep the forest intact to leave the throne to." If Thranduil does sail West, she has nothing to keep her here - she has taken no lover, and neither of her living brothers are as dear to her as the one dead. If her kin are all in the West, she is better there than here.

"I shall, if that road draws me." Thranduil sets her back after another long moment, kissing her forehead gently. "Now, I have to pack, and you have a Festival to plan."

Huffing, Cýron rolls her eyes. "Not that there is a great deal to plan, after so very long. Save to tell the Keeper of Stores that if he is found even the slightest bit tipsy while he's meant to be working, he shall have to find a new job, and a new home."

Thranduil laughs, his lips twisting in a smile that's an echo of happier days. "He will find it difficult after so many years of leniency."

"That is his concern, not mine." Cýron smiles, dipping her head in a polite nod before she leaves her father to his packing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thranduil never does return, though he also never sails West. Eventually, Cýron will leave the Forest Realm in the hands of some other relative (neither of her living brothers, but perhaps a child of one or the other), and either join her father, or sail West herself. I'm not certain yet.
> 
> Title means "celebration". (Updated for the new dictionary.)
> 
> Translations of Sindarin:
> 
> ruscnín = my fox


End file.
